


Horseman of the Hollow

by Rini, Saklani



Series: Hunters, Brothers, Lovers [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-26
Updated: 2011-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rini/pseuds/Rini, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saklani/pseuds/Saklani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years, Dean has dreamed of taking on one of the legends of the supernatural world, and now that his chance has come, nothing will stand in the his way. Not even Sam. But supernatural legends are legends for a reason...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a story with Sam and Dean and the Headless Horseman once before, but I was not very satisfied with the result. So, I was happy to try again with my co-author and see what we could do together. I'm pleased. I hope you are as well!

Dean flipped through the worn manila folder he'd been keeping for the past decade. It had information spanning back at least five decades with some sketchy rumors from even earlier dotting the margins of several of the pages. He knew the contents of the folder as well as he knew himself, taking them out every so often, looking up more information and adding whatever he could find. Dad hadn't wanted to take the hunt, hadn't let Dean head out for it on his own and Dean had sworn at eighteen that he would take it on when the next ten year cycle hit. He put the folder down and knew it was time to tell Sam about their next hunt.

Sam yawned and stretched, frowning when his arms touched nothing but empty space beside him. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked around, blinking sleepily. Dean almost never got up before he did, and when it happened, there was something big on the horizon. "Dean?"

"Hey Sam." Dean said, looking up from his place at the table. He stood up with Sam's fancy coffee in hand and put it next to him on the bedside table before leaning down for a gentle kiss. "Morning."

Sam caught Dean around the back of the head and held him there for a slightly longer kiss. "You're up early. Everything all right?" He rubbed a finger over Dean's cheek.

Dean nodded, turning to nip lightly at Sam's finger before sucking the tip in his mouth. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just been working out the details of our next hunt. We're going to have to get on the road tomorrow at the latest to get there in time." He pressed another kiss to Sam's lips before pulling back to get his own coffee off the table.

Sam blinked and slowly sat up, grabbing his coffee and sipping it before hauling his ass out of bed. "You already have another hunt for us? We just finished banshee-bashing last night. When did you have time to research?" Sam asked, approaching the table where Dean sat.

Taking a sip of his coffee, Dean thought of the best way to tell Sam. "It's something I've been working on, piecing together. It only happens once every ten years and this year is the next occurrence."

Sam turned a chair around and straddled it, leaning one elbow on the table and regarding Dean with one eyebrow raised. "You've been secretly tracking something?"

"Not so secret, just a pet project of mine for the last years." Dean pushed the folder across to Sam, leaned back in his seat and sipped at the coffee. "We can get some food once you've read through it."

Sam picked up the envelope, eyed Dean and then pulled out the pages inside. He blinked as he read the first one. "Are you fucking kidding me, Dean?"

Dean shook his head, crossing his legs at the ankles. "Nope. Wanted to hit this case ten years ago, but Dad said no. He can't say no this time." Implied in his comments was the assertion that Dean was going to take this on, with or without Sam, if need be.

Sam caught Dean's tone, his eyes shadowed, and he tossed the folder and papers on the table. "Fuck you," he said coldly and headed for the bathroom.

Groaning, Dean sat up and dropped his head in his hands. That could have gone a lot better... and he even knew where he fucked up. But now Sam was pissed and Dean was going to have to talk him down from that and convince him he wasn't kidding about the case. He stood up and crossed to the bathroom, knocking on the door and then opening it to stand in the doorway.

Sam continued washing his face and then pulled out his shaving kit. "Something you want?" he asked, lathering up his cheeks.

"Yeah. Sorry...didn't really mean that the way it came out." Dean scrubbed his face. "Well, yeah, I did...but I don't. I know we have to talk about it and we agreed to talk about all cases. So, sorry." It wasn't easy for him to say it, but Dean had learned in just over a year of being intimate with Sam, that he had to own up to his shit.

Sam turned to look at Dean through his babbled apology and sighed a little. He turned back to the mirror and began to scrape the foam off his face. "What makes this case so special?" he asked, rinsing off his razor.

Dean sighed and leaned against the door. He loved watching Sam, though he never said as much. "It's a tough one, legendary, as you know." Taking the time to get the right words, Dean finally sighed. "Dad was so hell bent on getting Azazel that he wouldn't let us near this case ten years ago. I know he wanted to protect you, that he didn't think I was ready for something like this." Dean sighed.   
"Maybe he was right. At any rate, ten people die every ten years to this curse... one each night leading up to Halloween and then it disappears again. Last time, it was twelve. Ten victims and two hunters. I want to stop this, Sam."

"There's a reason two hunters died last time, Dean," Sam said softly, splashing water on his face. "This isn't some ordinary ghost you want to go after. This is one of the ghosts." He sighed and leaned against the counter. "But you'll make my life miserable or take off without me if I say no, so I guess we're going to do this anyway."

He wanted to argue, but Sam knew him too well. Dean was determined to do this hunt. "If it starts to go south, we'll bail, Sam. I promise." Dean didn't make his promises lightly, but he'd promise Sam the world. "But I have to try."

Sam nodded and applied a bit of aftershave. "I'll hold you to that," he said. "And I'll do my best to make sure we get him, Dean. Even if nobody else has been able to... because nobody else has, even."

"Thanks... you want breakfast? I can bring something back or treat you once you're dressed." Dean smiled his thanks and his apology all in one.

Sam smiled slightly and shook his head in fond exasperation. To Dean, food was always a good way to apologize. "We can go to breakfast once I dress." He walked out the door, brushing against Dean as he went.

Dean reached out and stroked Sam's back lightly, acknowledging the acceptance of his half-assed apology. Sometimes Dean wondered why Sam put up with him, but then was grateful enough to send a blanket thank you up to whoever might listen.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Sam slid the papers back into the manila envelope and said, "This is a pretty damn extensive bunch of research you've done here, Dean. More research than I've ever see you do for anything. I'm kinda impressed."

Dean colored slightly, looking at Sam briefly before turning back to the road. "I've had ten years to track the data. Asked around a bit to get information on what I didn't already know." He remembered a couple of times hunts with their dad had taken them to that part of the country and the few times he'd snuck off, posing as a college kid writing a paper to ask all kinds of people about the ghost.

"That's a lot of effort for one ghost, Dean, even if he is a special one." Sam set aside the folder. "And keeping it to yourself... this seems like a pretty damn personal vendetta." 

Dean startled at the thought of it being a vendetta. He shook his head and then risked another glance at Sam. "You know how Dad was, Sam. He said no and that was the end of it... no matter how much I might've thought he was wrong." Shrugging, Dean turned back to the road and drummed his hand on the steering wheel. "I know Dad got into this stuff to avenge mom and kill the demon who killed her, but that's not all it's about, and I want to fix what he was too selfish to stop last time."

"This is a lot of research to do just because you thought dad was wrong," Sam said softly, reaching out to stroke Dean's leg. He knew how hard it was for Dean to ever say anything bad about their father. 

"I did some of it that year, partly because I wanted him to take me seriously as an adult." Dean shrugged, stroked his fingers over Sam's hand and went back to holding the steering wheel. "I did a lot right after, clipped out all of the people who were killed that year and kept the details in that envelope. Every time we came close enough, I dug a little bit more up."

Sam chuckled and shook his head, squeezing Dean's leg. "How come you never told me about it, Dean? I would have helped you."

Dean shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. "First, I didn't say anything because you were only fourteen and Dad would've had my head... then, you left and it was just something I did, you know? It wasn't until I saw that Halloween was coming that I really thought about having, needing to do this."

Sam considered Dean's words and then nodded once. "All right. I guess that's fair enough... but it's different now, Dean. We're more than just a team, we're a couple. It's time to share stuff like this."

"I haven't even looked at it in over a year, but yeah...I'll try to remember to share this stuff better." Dean shrugged slightly. "What do you think of all the research I have there?"

"I think that nobody knows how to take on the Headless Horseman, and we don't have anything to go on, either," Sam said honestly. "Wherever his remains are buried, particularly his head, they're well hidden."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, but what if the old tales were true and that the Headless Horseman was really someone in disguise... then, we'd not be looking for an actual Headless Horseman. We'd just need to locate the family, figure out who the Horseman was and burn the remains."

"Yep, that ought to be easy," Sam said with a snort. "We'd still need to find his head. Cause whoever he was, he certainly lost his head." He slid his hand higher up on Dean's thigh and said,

"If anyone can figure it out, you can. Once you get something like this in your teeth, you're like one of those tiny dogs with a bone. You worry it until it dies."

Not entirely certain if that was a compliment, Dean let it slide because Sam's hand was high on his thigh and he liked that. After their initial argument on the topic, he and Sam had treaded a bit lightly. Their fights sometimes still did that to them and neither of them really liked the way it threw them off balance. "We will figure it out."

Sam hummed a little tunelessly and then sang in his off-key voice,  
"When the spooks have a midnight jamboree They break it up with fiendish glee,  
The ghosts are bad but the one that's cursed,  
Is the headless horseman;  
he's the worst."

Dean lifted his eyebrow and looked at Sam. "What is that from?" he asked. 

"Disney," Sam said with a little smirk and then sang another tune, also badly,  
"Through the fog you now approach your doom,  
The headless rider as cold as the tomb,  
You were warned not to travel this path,  
Now it's your turn to feel his wrath!" 

"Disney?" Dean repeated, eyebrow arching even higher. 

"Nope, that's from the Legend of Sleepy Hollow movie by Tim Burton... which sucks, by the way." Sam leaned back in his seat. "I'm just saying we're going after a legend. One of the legends of the supernatural." 

Dean laughed, nodding. "Yeah, Sammy... I'd be lying if I didn't say that was part of the appeal." 

Sam rubbed his thumb on the inseam of Dean's jeans. "Because our lives aren't thrilling enough?" 

"They're plenty thrilling, but this has been my brass ring hunt for a decade, Sam. I can't just turn that off." Dean shrugged, tried to look sheepish and failed. 

Sam hmmmed and said, "We need to prepare some special weapons and spells for this. I'm not sure good old rock salt and iron are going to slow down this particular spook."  

"Probably not. I was thinking we may have to consult some the library... I'm betting the town has a  
decent collection of stuff." Dean grinned and slid his legs a bit wider for Sam's touch. 

"Well, they ought to have a pretty complete collection on their main celebrity," Sam said. "Do you have any idea where the notes the other hunters who tried to take him down went?"

Dean shook his head. "Some of the information I found was definitely from them, but nothing all that much." 

Sam frowned and rubbed up and down Dean's leg, lost in thought. "That would be awfully helpful. We could see what their theories were; see if they were on the right or wrong track." 

"We can always ask Bobby if he's heard anything... he might even have some of the data." Dean shrugged, rubbing his hand over the top of the steering wheel. 

Sam chuckled and stroked up Dean's leg again. "Thought you wanted to avoid Bobby for awhile. Just have it be us." 

Dean grimaced. "I do want it to be just us, but I also agree with you that we can't go into this without all of the information we can get." 

"Well, we're not inviting him over to tea, so I guess a phone call cannot hurt," Sam said. He glanced around the quiet road and then slid his hand over the slight bulge at Dean's crotch. "Going after a legend is kinda a turn on for you, too, isn't it, Dean?" he purred. 

Groaning softly, Dean chuckled and nodded slightly. "Yeah, it is kind of a turn on, Sam." 

"Excitement slut," Sam said, pressing back against the bulge. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. 

"You know me, Sammy." Dean rocked his hips up into Sam's hand. He wanted to close his eyes, but kept them on the road while he drummed on the steering wheel. 

"No sex on this hunt," Sam said firmly. "Once we get to Sleepy Hollow anyway, so you better get it all out before we get there." 

Dean groaned. "Thought we decided that was a bad rule for hunts." He was near to pouting over the idea of going without sex for the next two weeks. 

Sam noted the response and rolled his eyes. "How long until we get to Sleepy Hollow?" 

"Another few hours tonight until we stop and then four hours tomorrow morning." Dean smiled. "We could stop sooner tonight." 

Sam snickered and punched Dean lightly in the shoulder. "Did we forget to have sex last night?" 

"I didn't think you were at all in the mood for it since I hadn't told you all about the hunt and stuff." Dean shrugged. 

Sam sighed a little and said, "Let's stop at the next motel we see that looks decent." 

"I like how you think." Dean grinned and stepped on the gas. 

Sam just shook his head and snorted again, saying, "You ought to. You're the one who taught me, after all." 

Dean laughed. "True enough, Sammy. True enough."   
~~~~~~~~~~ 

On the outskirts of Sleepy Hollow, resting on a small knoll, surrounded by locust trees and elms, stood the Church of Perpetual Mourning. A gentle slope led from the church, covered with the graves of those long gone, and led down to a river below. On one side of the church extended a wooded dell, leading to a smaller brook, filled with boulders and logs. And over the darkest part of the stream stood an ancient, covered bridge, its old timbers still firm and untouched by time. And over that bridge, a road, once mere dirt, but now paved for the automobile, upon which rode the Headless Hessian of the hollow. 

Sam stared around the area, taking in the old church, the musty tombs and the road. "Why do people even come here on Halloween or the week before?" 

Dean stood next to Sam, a comfortably discreet distance between them, and looked out over the gorgeous countryside. He shook his head. "No idea, Sam, though it is peaceful. Maybe people just like to believe in the idea of the supernatural... not the reality of it, but the idea of it all." 

Sam glanced at Dean with a little grin. "Are you getting philosophical on me, Dean? Cause I don't know if I can handle that." 

Grinning, Dean shrugged. Something like this legend, in this place, made him think like someone who wasn't a part of this day-to-day lifestyle. He could somewhat understand what drove people to seek it out. Hell, he'd been on the path for a decade. "Sometimes I am, Sammy." 

Sam swerved toward him and butted against Dean affectionately. "A bunch of gawkers is going to make our job that much harder, especially once the horseman starts trying to take heads." 

"Yeah, it will... and the horseman's going to be taking them, Sam. There's no way we're going to be able to figure out who'll be first." Dean bit his lower lip, frowning around it. He wished he had more information to go on so that no one would die this year. 

"From your research, I'd say the Horseman doesn't care where the heads come from. Any head will do." Sam paused for a long moment, biting his lower lip. "I wonder what happens if he doesn't fill his quota." 

Dean blinked. "Never thought of that. I wonder if it means he'll keep on going until the quotas filled or if he's restricted to the nineteen days leading up and including Halloween." 

"A good angle for some research," Sam said with a little nod. "I wonder if that's what the other hunters were thinking, too." 

"Could be, it's a good angle to look at." Dean grinned, glad that Sam was ready to put himself into this hunt that was Dean's passion. "I can't remember anything in the research I have about any year missing the ten heads." 

"Well, I wonder when people started to really keep track." Sam scowled, thinking over the notes he had read. "The stories and legends date from way back, but the actual notation of what he was doing when... that's pretty recent." 

"Yeah, this century at least." Dean rubbed at the back of his head. "You'd think I knew this shit inside and out, but now I want to look at it again with this new angle." He sighed in frustration.

"Since we've got two days before he starts hunting, should we walk the path and see what there is to  
see before we hit the library?" 

Sam bumped Dean again and said, "This is why you should've talked to me, Dean. You may have gotten the overactive sex drive in the family, but that's because all the brains were saved for me." 

Dean glared at Sam and shoved him slightly. He'd done the leg work on the case for a decade, knew what he was doing and even though he knew Sam was teasing him, this time out it stung in ways Dean didn't normally let it affect him. "You got a preference? Walk or library?" he asked again. 

Sam reached for Dean and dragged him close by the shoulders. "Dean, the number of times you made fun of me for any number of reasons when it wasn't even a bit funny, you don't get to bitch out on me now." 

"Didn't say a word about it Sam, just asked you which of the sections you wanted to do first." Dean  
let Sam's arm sit around him, but he still held himself a bit stiffly. It was one thing for him to make fun of his own smarts, but another altogether for Sam to think he was stupid. 

Sam sighed a little, realizing he had bruised his edgy, but sometimes delicate, brother. He turned and pressed the softest kiss to Dean's mouth. "You have more than one person look at something, and they see something different. That's all. Besides, people have been trying to stop the Headless Horseman for centuries without success. All right?" 

Dean relaxed slightly and nodded, after all, what Sam said was true. "Yeah, all right," Dean said, biting back a comment that he'd had Sam pour over everything he'd ever collected on the case. "I think we should walk the path where the most victims are found and then hit the library. I'm thinking they may have some information to fill in some of our gaps." 

Sam kissed Dean again, deeper this time and then said, "I think we should walk the whole route he's supposed to ride. We need to stake out places where we can best get at him without getting chopped." 

"Yeah," Dean breathed when they pulled back from the kiss. "No getting chopped, Sam. Kinda like you too much for that." 

"All right then." Sam parted from Dean and headed down the slope, toward the road. "I like your heads where they are, too." 

Dean blinked and then barked out laughter. He smiled and shook his head out at Sam's jokes. "Glad to hear it, Sammy." He picked up his pace and did a quick run/walk down the hill.

Sam grinned and did a mental fist pump for changing Dean's mood back to happy so quickly. He waited at the bottom of the hill for Dean, grabbed his jacket as he went by and pulled him into a kiss. He let his forehead rest against Dean's, as he said, "This road used to lead to the town of Sing Sing, and it's along here that the Horseman rides."

"You know the oddest stuff, Sam. But it's getting hotter every time you say something like that." Dean wrapped himself around Sam and kissed him hard.

Sam groaned and fisted his hands in Dean's jacket, his body quickening the way it always did when Dean got serious about kissing. "Fuck," he panted, forcing himself to pull away. "Have to focus, Dean."

Dean nodded, letting his mouth slide from Sam's lips down to his jaw where he dragged his teeth along until he could nuzzle under Sam's ear. "Yeah, focus," he breathed, nipping Sam's earlobe between his teeth.

Sam laughed and moaned in the same breath, before pushing Dean off him. "This is your holy grail, Dean. We're here for you." He strolled toward the wooden bridge. "He can't cross the bridge."

"No crossing the bridge. Got it." Dean vaguely remembered hearing something like that, though his brain was rattling down in his dick at the moment.

Sam placed a hand on one of the wooden beams and turned, surveying the area. "A trap here would be nice... but I bet that's been tried."

"Probably and if the ghost is smart then it's going to figure on it." Dean frowned, sighed and ran his hands along the side. "What about a trap down the side? Something that it might not expect."

"He can't get on the bridge at all. It's like holy ground to him." Sam stopped and looked at the bridge with a strange expression. "I wonder why that is."

Dean observed the bridge and then moved along the side, hand trailing slowly. "Could be that it's consecrated wood."

Sam frowned and said, "That would be hard to find out. It's another angle worth checking on. I mean... it could have something to do with his head, his not being able to cross the bridge."

"There's still so much to look into and we only have thirty-six hours before his first ride this year." Dean sighed and scrubbed at his face.

Sam nodded and said, "Well, guess we better get a move on then." He turned and walked down the road, looking over the wooded slopes that led off on each side. "Hiding isn't a problem around here."

Dean laughed. "Nope, we should be able to hide out all we need."

"So should he," Sam said. "Not that he needs to hide." He stopped suddenly at a giant tulip tree in the middle of the road. "Major Andre's tree," he breathed out, put a hand on its gnarled, twisted trunk. "I thought it was just a legend."

"You know of this tree?" Dean wasn't sure the name meant anything to him, though he wasn't surprised that Sam knew details on this that he might not.

"Dude, all the research you've done on the Headless Horseman, have you ever read Washington Irving's story?" Sam asked, turning to smile at Dean.

Dean grinned, sheepishly and scrubbed his hand over his face. "Yeah, I tried, but it was hard to get the time with Dad's training."

"And it wasn't really your style," Sam said with a shake of his head. "Long descriptive passages with no action, and the part with the actual ghost being rather short and not all that frightening."

Grimacing, Dean shook his head. "Yeah, doesn't sound like I’ve had made it through. So, enlighten me on the tree?""

"Well, in the story, this is where Ichabod Crane first started feeling weird vibes in the air. And a moment later, the Horseman appeared." Sam pointed to a small brook ahead of them. "There."

"So, this'll be our best spot of catching him out?" Dean asked.

"I don't really know if anywhere is a good spot for catching him," Sam said with a frown, "but from here to the bridge is his normal haunting ground. And the graveyard." He walked over to bump hips against Dean. "So, somewhere in here, we can make our stand... in whatever fashion we plan to make it."

Dean nodded. "It's definitely not an ideal place...too many hiding spots on both sides. But, we'll figure something out."

"If we even need to," Sam said. "If we're freakishly lucky and brilliant, we might find out this is a simple salt and burn and lay the bastard to rest before he rises up again." He paused and dimpled at Dean.

"If only," Dean said, wanting that to be the truth, but not believing in it.

"Yeah," Sam said with a little huff of disbelief. "Well, time for the library?"

"Sounds like the best place to start." Dean crossed to Sam and wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulder.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Sam stood near Major Andre's tree, shotgun clutched tightly in both hands. He had already chased off several thrill seekers and hoped none of them reported the heavily armed, threatening man to the police. There were none of the sounds of humanity around, only the chirp of a cricket or croak of a frog to keep him company. He wondered vaguely why they never invested in a set of walkie talkies.

Dean waited, poised to the side of the bridge entrance. He watched through the black night, cursing their luck that there wasn't a lick of moonlight. It both helped and hurt their plans, and Dean wondered for the nth time that night just where the ghost was.

Sam strode toward Wiley's swamp and paused at the edge of the road, eyes straining into the darkness. Here, Ichabod Crane had first seen a huge towering shape by the side of the road. He saw nothing except unrelenting gloom and paced away again. Grabbing his cell, he sent a quick text, "Nothing here. You?"

Pulling out his phone when it buzzed, Dean's heart raced and he felt himself instantly alert for the hunt. He opened the text and groaned, quickly sending back, "Nothing. Where is the bastard?"

Sam read over the words quickly and just as he reached the last one, a scream pierced the still night. He nearly dropped the phone as he tried to slip in his pocket and race for the churchyard at the same time.

"Shit," Dean yelled, racing from the bridge toward the graveyard. They'd miscalculated and now someone was about to die. He pushed himself to run faster, catching a glimpse of Sam running in the same direction.

Sam waved at Dean, signaling he would go up the back way, so they could try and surround the Horseman. He sprinted up the road, legs beating against the pavement.

Dean pushed himself harder, barreling toward the cemetery. Just as he rounded the last of the trees blocking it from view, he saw a trio of teenaged boys cowering before the ghostly image of the Headless Horseman, sword raised and ready to chop of their friend's head.

Sam reached the top of the hill and came over the other side, in time to see the Horseman's arm descend, a wicked, curved blade traveling a perfect arc to part the head of one screaming teenager from the rest of his body. Through the gloom, which thankfully obscured the gruesome details, Sam saw that the Horseman was huge and rode a tall, black steed. And then, the Horseman held the head in one hand and winked out of sight, leaving one body and two shrieking teenagers behind.

"Shit, fuck and damn!" Dean yelled, continuing to run toward Sam at the other edge of the cemetery. He did his best to stay out of sight of the screaming teens for the moment, not wanting them to connect him or Sam to what just happened...not until he and Sam had a chance to decide how they wanted to play it.

Sam's instincts told him to go to the teenagers and try to help them out, but forced himself to stop and drift behind a large tree, out of view. There was nothing he could do now. The Horseman was gone, the boy was dead, and a pair of large, armed men appearing would not calm the situation any. Plus, the police might frown upon their presence. He watched Dean approach, noticed the expression on his face and felt his heart tighten. Dean would undoubtedly be blaming himself for this somehow.

Dean closed in on Sam's location, slipping behind the same tree and stepping back slightly so that he was still hidden but could see where the kids were continuing their hysterics. "Goddamn it. Well that explains why he didn't come for us."

Sam put a hand on Dean's chest and rubbed soothingly. "He's been doing this a long time," he said softly. "And we can't predict perfectly where he might show. Tomorrow, we'll find a way to keep people out of the graveyard." He tugged on Dean's arm, leading him away, as a siren began to wail in the distance.

"Yeah, just, fuck, Sam. We weren't even close enough to get a great angle at him, though." Dean scrubbed at his face again and knew they'd have nearly twenty-four hours until they could try taking him out again. "Back to the research, I guess."

Sam kept moving Dean toward the car, where he paused and took a moment to kiss Dean softly. "We'll get the bastard."

Dean grabbed tight onto Sam's jacket and held him close, kissing him hard. He was devastated that some nameless kid had lost his life while he was there to stop the ghost and needed to feel Sam against him.

Sam rubbed Dean's back and let himself be kissed. This was one time when he would break their rules because Dean needed him. He let his love and belief in Dean suffuse through him, saying with his mouth what Dean seldom let him say in words.  
~~~~~~~


	2. Chapter 2

Sam watched Dean emerge from the shower, trying to gauge his mood. He leaned back against his pillows and set aside the laptop. "C'mere, Dean, and I'll give you a back rub."

Dean toweled off his hair one last time before tossing the wet cloth back into the bathroom. He crawled onto the bed, dropping onto his stomach right next to Sam and burrowing into the pillow. "He got another one, Sam."

Sam reached down and began to work the tension out of Dean's shoulders. "I know. It wasn't your fault or mine. We couldn't do anymore than we did. "

"A kid died on our watch." Dean thumped the pillow with his fist before forcing himself to relax so that Sam's massage might actually do some good.

Sam leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the back of Dean's neck. "I know. It sucked." He rested his forehead in his hair, even as he rubbed his thumbs into Dean's nape.

Dean sucked in a harsh breath. "I know we can't save them all, Sam. But I wish we could." He rubbed his face against the pillow with a low, choked off noise. Those he lost weighed heavily on him.

"You take too much on you, Dean," Sam said softly. "You want to be responsible for everyone, but you know we can't. Those kids... they shouldn't have been there."

"Yeah. They shouldn't have been there. Though, with this shit going down only every ten years, plenty of people probably don't have a clue." Dean sighed under Sam's hands, wriggling slightly and then settling back in. "Just wish he'd have come after us."

"I think he chooses the easier targets," Sam said. "And coming after us... I'm not sure I wish that on us. After all, no hunter has stopped him, either."  
   
Turning his head, Dean lifted himself to kiss Sam and help soothe the ache in his gut.

Sam twisted to meet Dean's lips, mouth open and accepting. He slid his arms around Dean and pressed into him.

Moaning, Dean arched into Sam's body. He turned so that he could wrap Sam up in his arms and keep them pressed together. He was well aware of Sam's rules on this hunt, but needed to feel his brother.

Sam moved so they were both on their sides, holding each other close. He threw one leg over Dean's and pressed forward, expressing his willingness to do whatever Dean wanted.

Dean reached down and grabbed Sam's leg, fingers digging into the hard muscles of his upper thighs while he moaned, "Love you so much, Sammy." He nuzzled under Sam's chin, nipping and licking along the long column of throat that Sam bared to him.

Sam lifted his chin to allow Dean full access to do whatever he pleased. His hands worked the tense muscles of Dean's back, kneading like a contented cat. "Dean."

"Sam, if we're gonna stop, we have to stop." Dean held Sam tight to his body, but buried his face in the join of Sam's shoulder and neck. He bit down lightly and concentrated on breathing. Sam had to be the one to say it was okay to break his rules.

"We're not stopping, Dean," Sam said, smoothing his hand over Dean's neck and back.

"Oh, thank Christ," Dean said, pushing himself up to kiss Sam. He nipped at Sam's lower lip before sucking it in gently and worrying at it. While he kissed Sam, Dean held tight to his leg and rocked their hips together.

Sam thrust into Dean lightly and let his hands drift into Dean's boxers and over the curve of his ass. He slid his tongue against Dean's and then pushed into his mouth.

Dean groaned and rocked them together again. He loved the way Sam's hands fit over his body, cupping and holding him tightly enough to keep him in place. "Please, Sammy. Need you tonight."

Sam nodded and pressed kisses down Dean's neck and bit at his shoulder. "What do you need?"

"Need you inside me, Sam. Need to feel you take control." Dean tipped his head to the side, going compliant under Sam, while his desire raged hotter than ever.

Sam rolled Dean on his back and bit down hard, marking him. He sat back and tugged off his boxers, tossing them aside. "Stroke yourself, Dean. Want to watch you."

Dean reached inside his boxers with one hand, curling it around his cock and stroking himself fast and hard, while he used the other hand to yank and tug the boxers completely off his body. He moaned once they were pushed down and away, used his feet to lift his hips into his hand and locked his eyes on Sam's so his brother could see how much he wanted this, needed it.

Sam growled a little at the sight. "Slower, Dean. No getting yourself off. Just stroke slow and easy."

"Saaaaam," Dean whined, but slowed his stokes down, forcing himself to loosen his grip so that it was more a tease than any real sensation.

Sam smiled and reached down to pinch each of Dean's nipples, tweaking them both in turn. "You'll do what I say, Dean," he said.

"Yeah, of course," Dean hissed at the pinching touches, arching toward Sam in response. "So good, Sammy."

Sam hooked a finger through some precome leaking from the head of Dean's cock and sucked it off. He reached for the lube and slicked some on the same finger, before pressing between Dean's thighs and heading for his hole. 

Dean spread his legs open for Sam, hooking one around his waist and leaving the other bent with his foot on the bed. He arched into Sam's hand and curled his hands in Sam's hair, releasing his erection. 

Sam chuckled as Dean grabbed his hair, which he loved to do when they had sex. He rubbed one finger over the muscle and then wiggled the tip inside. "How much you want this, Dean?" 

"More than anything else, Sam. Want you so badly. Need you."

Sam easily worked in the first finger and hurried to get the second inside. He knew Dean would get impatient and try to take him in unprepared, if he did not work quickly. 

Dean thrust down onto Sam's two fingers with a groan. He tightened his grip on Sam's hair and dragged him into another heated kiss. 

Sam laughed again into the kiss. Trust Dean to be pushy and demanding with two fingers up his ass. He shoved them in deeper, deliberately scraping his prostate. 

"Oh fuck, Sammy!" Dean cried out, head slamming back into the pillow, while he thrust into Sam's hand. 

Feeling sufficiently triumphant, Sam pulled his fingers out and slicked up his cock with short, quick movements. Without giving Dean a chance to react, he flipped him on his stomach and shoved in.  

Dean keened, his body responding instinctively to Sam's. He arched his back and shoved himself into Sam's hips to bury his brother inside him. 

Sam growled and sank his teeth in Dean's shoulder as he brother impaled himself. "Jesusfuck, Dean," he gasped. "So fucking pushy." 

"Sam," Dean breathed, going placid under his brother. He held himself in place but stopped trying to drive Sam deeper. 

Sam sighed and gripped Dean's hips and began slowly to move in and out. He knew Dean would soon want fast and hard, so he gave himself a few moments of slow, sweet and loving. "So good, Dean. Always so good." 

"Love you, Sam." Dean breathed out. 

Sam peppered Dean's neck and shoulders with kisses and nips, before turned his head and capturing his lips. He sped up a fraction, tongue matching his hips in and out. "So fucking hot, Dean. Love this... you." 

Dean whimpered, arching his back for Sam while he kissed his brother back with everything he had in him. 

Sam parted their mouths, grinned and said, "Hang on," before starting the most punishing rhythm he could make. The bed began to slam into the wall, mattress springs squeaking and frame shaking. He let his head fall back and shouted a series of increasingly filthy words at the ceiling. 

Crying out in time with Sam's thrusts, Dean rode Sam's rhythm. He braced himself into the bed, rocking into Sam's body with each faster and harder thrust inside him. 

Sam reached underneath Dean and raked his nails over his thighs, just brushing his cock. His hips never slowed down, even though he no longer held on to Dean. 

"Sam, please." Dean had no idea what he was begging for, just knew that begging Sam would eventually get him what he wanted. 

"Yes, Dean," Sam said, gripping Dean's dripping cock by the head and jacking him off. He shut his eyes and felt the rhythm in his blood and bones, driving them both on. 

Dean trembled and shook under Sam, responding to all of the ways his brother knew how to please him best. "Oh fuck, Sammy. Please, need to come for you."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said. "Come on, baby. Want you to spurt all over for me." He twisted a little on the next stroke, knowing how much Dean loved that.

Sam's voice, the words he used and the way he stroked Dean were everything that Dean needed to let go of his self-control. He spurted into the bed beneath him, shuddering and whimpering through the sensations skittering down his spine.

Sam's heart tightened at the little whimpers, so he ducked his head to press reassuring kisses all over Dean's neck and shoulders, body holding off its own orgasm. He waited until Dean slumped, completely pliant, beneath him, before pulling out. He encouraged him to roll on his back with gentle hands. "Turn over for me, De."

Dean moaned when Sam slid out of him, turning onto his back as requested. Rolling his head to the side, Dean smiled at Sam and spread his legs open for his brother.

Sam grabbed the base of his cock not to spurt everywhere as Dean smiled and offered himself so wantonly. He reached between his muscled thighs and rubbed over his hole, sliding two fingers into the wet, open muscle. "So fucking gorgeous," he breathed.

"Yours, Sam." Dean smiled against, lowering his gaze and rocking into Sam's touch. He loved the way Sam would sometimes play with him after his orgasm, when each touch was a bit electric.

"Do you want to suck me, Dean?" Sam asked, still stroking in and out. "Want to wrap that dirty mouth around me?"

Dean groaned, nodded his head and reached for Sam's hips. He tugged and dragged at Sam until his brother moved up his body to straddle his chest. "Fuck yeah, love the taste of you, Sam."

Sam spread his legs to span Dean's chest and rubbed his fingers over his face and into his spiky hair. He pressed his cock gently against Dean's mouth and spread precome everywhere. "Come on, De, want to watch you."

Groaning, Dean opened his mouth and flicked his tongue out to curl around Sam's cock. He took his time, even knowing that Sam had to be thrumming with want, but after a few moments, tugged Sam a little closer to his mouth and then sucked his brother all the way into his throat.

Sam moaned and thrust a little in Dean's talented mouth. He stroked over Dean's cheeks, loving the way they hollowed to suck him. "That's right," he crooned, forcing his mind to concentrate enough to form the words. "Take care of me, Dean. Take care of me the way you always do. So pretty, sucking me."

Dean hummed his pleasure at Sam's dirty talk. He loved when Sam talked him through what he was doing. He tightened his grip on Sam's hips and pulled at him while thrusting his head up to take Sam in over and over again, as deep as he could.

Sam tried to hold off, but had been close before sliding into Dean's warm mouth, and with only a squeeze of Dean's shoulder as warning, he came. He pulled out before Dean could stop him, so he splashed warm and dirty all over Dean's face.

Groaning, Dean closed his eyes and felt the splashes of Sam's come splattering his face. His breath shuddered out, and he flicked his tongue out to clean up a few drops on his upper lip.

"Mine," Sam said, as he shuddered through the last aftershocks. He rested back on his legs and Dean's chest, surveying his handsome features coated with the evidence of Sam's pleasure.

"Yours," Dean whispered, forcing his gaze open to look at Sam.

Sam traced a finger through one of the cooling splatters and then pressed it to Dean's lips. "Want me to clean you up, or leave you dirty with my spunk for the night?"

Dean sighed and then shrugged. "Up to you, Sam. Always up to you." In some ways, Dean wanted a shower and in others, he wanted to revel in the feeling of Sam's claim on him.

Sam snorted and then hauled himself off Dean. He held out a hand and said, "Let's take a quick shower together."

Letting Sam pull him to his feet, Dean sighed, wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulder and then dragged him toward the bathroom and the promise of a hot shower. "Thanks."

Sam kissed Dean's cheek and said, "My pleasure. Tomorrow, we'll get out there again. All right?"

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean smiled at his brother, squeezed his hand and then kissed him gently.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Sam stood in the middle of the narrow road and squinted into the gloom that had settled over the entire area. The fog had built up from the nearby water and slowly spread until he could barely see a foot through the swirling white. He lifted the walkie talkie he had insisted on buying and called Dean. "Can you see a fucking thing?" he hissed, aware of the silence around him.

"Not a damn thing. Stupid fog. Bet it gives him an advantage too, fucking ghosts." Dean sighed, wonderful mood from the previous night with Sam having evaporated with the lack of information they could find and the onset of the crappy weather. "If I didn't know for a fact that he hunts nightly, I'd say we should pack it in."

Sam started at something in the fog and blew out a shaky breath when he realized it was just a tree. "Don't give up yet, Dean. This weather will keep most thrill seekers away, too." He whirled as a stick snapped behind him, shotgun raised. "Of course, I may have a heart attack first."

Dean heard the tension in Sam's voice and cursed that they were separated, though he knew their best chances for covering more area were in them being apart. "Yeah, try not to do that on me. I'd miss you," Dean said, the closest he'd get to being sappy about Sam being careful. "At least no one seems to be out tonight."

"Nothing is out," Sam said. "Not an owl or a cricket or a frog. It's like the whole area is holding its breath..." He turned as he reached the giant tulip tree that marked the end of his route and turned again. "Nobody here but us Winchesters."

"If it stays that way, we might be able to catch him, Sam." Not that Dean wanted either of them to come up on the ghost alone, but he'd rather that then some innocent bystander again. "Hey, what do- shit!" Dean cried out, seeing something in the fog. "Dammit, Sammy... I think there're some people coming this way toward the bridge."

Sam burst into a sprint toward Dean and from the corner of his eye caught sight of a large, dark mass in the fog. "Oh fuck." He threw his long legs into their fastest possible gait, just as the Horseman pulled onto the road behind him. "Dean, he's behind me!"  
   
Dean groaned, knowing he wasn't close enough to Sam to be much help. "Okay, Sam, I'm coming. Just keep fucking running." He turned and left the intruders behind, barreling toward Sam's patrol area with everything he had in him.

Sam's legs flew over the pavement, breath a rough scrape in the back of his throat. He pushed himself to the maximum of his ability, even as he heard the clatter of the hooves over the pavement drawing nearer. With a hunter's instinct, he flung himself toward the ground, hearing the hiss the blade in the air where his neck had been a second earlier. He wiped out on the asphalt, losing skin on his palms and knees and ruining his pants. Pressing himself up, he saw the Horseman whirl and stared up into the vast nothing where his head should have been.

"Sam!!!!" Dean screamed, his view of the Headless Horseman rearing up over Sam chilling his heart. Pushing himself, Dean ran faster, harder and aimed his gun of rock salt at the spirit. He shot several rounds, cursing when it seemed to have little effect.

Sam scrambled for his feet and took off in the opposite direction of his brother, not wanting to endanger Dean. The horse screamed and took off after him again. He pushed himself, headed for Major Andre's tree and hoped the damn legends were right. As he crossed the small brook again, he swore he could feel the horse's hot breath on the back of his neck. Throwing himself flat out, he dove for the trunk, feeling the sword nick the back of his skull and rolled beyond the tree. The Horseman stopped in a clatter of hooves, before whirling and taking off in Dean's direction.

Dean watched Sam barely escape, cursing that his brother took off away from him. When Horseman whirled on him, Dean planted his feet, pulled up the shotgun and fired off several more rounds of salt mixed with silver while calling out to Sam to be certain he was okay. The Horseman took the first two blasts and then vanished with a wail of fury at the third.

Sam scrambled to his feet and stumbled back to Dean. "Fuck, that thing is fast. And tough." He breathed hard for a moment and then his eyes widened again. "Did you say there were people on the other side?"

"Fuck! Yes, there are." Dean whirled and grabbed Sam's arm. "You doing okay?" he asked, while tugging his brother along with him.

"Nothing I'm not used to," Sam said, already at a sprint next to Dean. His long legs carried him ahead of his brother, and he strained to see in the night, suddenly spotting two smaller figures walking leisurely toward them. "Get out of the road!" he yelled, waving his arms. "Get the fuck off the road!"

Dean was cursing behind Sam, running as fast he could and hoping the damn people listened to his brother. Out of the looming fog, he saw a shadow approaching behind the people along with the clatter off hooves sounding out. "Get down," he yelled, sprinting up behind Sam and trying to steady the shotgun.

Sam spotted the Horseman the moment after Dean did and put on a burst of speed. From this range, the shotgun was all but useless. The figures turned at the sound of hoof beats, one of them screamed and then both ran toward Sam. "Get off the road!" he yelled again.

"Get down," Dean yelled. "Get off the fucking road and get down!"

The figures coalesced into a man and woman, both obviously too frightened to understand a word Dean or Sam were shouting. The Horseman closed the gap with every second, and Sam made a desperate gambit. Using the last of his energy, he put everything into a burst of speed, head down and legs pumping, heading for the two people and angling for the side of the road. At the last possible second, he flew into a tackle and reached for them both. For a second, he thought it would work but then the man jerked to the side. Sam caught the woman square, but missed the man. He heard a scream behind him, as he and the woman tumbled over the side of the road and rolled down the embankment.

Shooting at the spirit with the shotgun, Dean cursed as it ignored the blast and watched in horror as the Horseman quickly and easily sliced the guy's head off and then disappeared into the fog around them as though he was made from it. "Shit! Fuck!" Dean raced toward where Sam had disappeared. "Sam!" he yelled.

Sam accidentally released the woman when they slammed into a trunk, hearing her cry out with pain. She stopped, but he continued all the way down the slope, banging into rocks, sticks, small logs and finally into a bramble patch. "Ow! Fuck!"

"Sam!" Dean yelled again, slowly making his way down the hill. When he reached the woman, Dean stopped and bent down to check on her. "How're you doing?" he asked, noting that she was a bit bruised up from the fall.

She blinked up at him, eyes wide with fear. "What- what was that thing?"

"We're not entirely sure." He reached down and offered her a hand. "Here, lean on the tree for a minute. I need to check on the guy who saved you." Dean forced a smile before he continued down the hill. "Sammy, you okay?"

Sam pulled himself carefully out of the brambles, wincing as he removed thorns from his skin and clothes to try and get loose. He saw Dean above him, talking to the woman and grimaced, knowing the man could not have survived. Sam began to climb the steep hill, reaching for Dean's hand when he came in range. "I'm a fucking mess," he said, "and all for nothing, I take it."

Dean grabbed Sam's hand and hauled him up into a fierce hug. "Unfortunately. The Horseman got the man, though I don't think she's realized that yet. She's still stunned." He lightly ran his hands over Sam's body. "You sure you're okay, though?"

"Ow," Sam hissed as Dean rubbed over several sore patches. "I'm going to be a mass of black and blue and I'm missing a lot of skin, but yeah, I'm all right." He began to climb toward the woman, wondering what to tell her.

"So long as you're not broken in any way." Dean climbed the hill next to Sam. "You want to walk her up the rest of the way, and I'll figure out a way to keep her from seeing the worst of it?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed and looked at Dan with puppy dog eyes. "Take care of me when we get back to the room?" he asked, knowing it would make Dean feel better, as well as himself.

Dean smiled, tipped his head and then brushed a light kiss over Sam's cheek. "You bet. I'll make you feel better, Sammy."

Sam smiled and dragged himself up the hill toward the woman, dreading the talk he was about to have. "Thanks, Dean," he called back, before straightening his shoulders and preparing to deliver bad news to yet another victim of the supernatural.  
~~~~~~~~~~


	3. Chapter 3

Sam tossed off his ruined pants and shirt, before sitting gingerly on the edge of the toilet seat. He turned his back to Dean, letting him start with that side. "The Horseman is even stronger than we figured. Plain old salt and silver isn't going to cut it."

"Doesn't seem so, though enough shots of it got him to disperse... none of it seemed sufficiently strong enough to affect him much." Dean ran his fingertips gently over the various wounds on Sam's back, before picking up some cleanser and some ointment.

"We need something stronger, Dean, if we're going to fend him off effectively." Sam sighed and lowered his head. "And I don't think the angle of finding the body to burn is working so far. All our research indicates that the Horseman is the Hessian that everyone thought he was from the start."

"Yeah, which means he's been burned already by another hunter somewhere along the way." Dean cursed softly when he found a deeper slice into Sam's back. He cleansed that area twice, slathered it with ointment and covered it immediately. "Gonna need to keep watch on that cut, Sam."

"I think that's where I hit one of the rocks... or it could have been a branch. Hard to say." Sam nodded in agreement with Dean's assessment of the salt and burn situation. "The real problem is nobody knows where the head is. Not the slightest clue."

Dean cursed. "Yeah, I wish we had a clue, but it's like with the spirit now... they just disappear." He finished up on Sam's back and tapped him to turn around. "I just know the answer is here, somewhere."

"I think we ought to try the bridge angle, Dean," Sam said, turning toward Dean. "And look into some stronger weapons against him."

"Should we call Bobby to see if he has anything pure silver we can use?" Dean knew Bobby would meet them if they needed it, but he was also afraid Bobby was going to tell him that there was nothing to combat the ghost.

Sam glanced over at Dean with raised eyebrows. "You don't really want to call Bobby, do you?"

Dean shrugged, but knew he couldn't put Sam off for long. "Not really. I always get the feeling that he knows, isn't saying anything but disapproves."

"And this is a hunt you want us to do for ourselves," Sam said, tipping his head up. "We still live in dad's shadow sometimes."

"Yeah, we do. And this is my hunt, our hunt... not Dad's, not Bobby's, not Ellen's." Dean sighed, knowing his pride could get them seriously hurt.

"Your hunt," Sam said with a little shake of his head. He pulled Dean's hands to his chest and said, "Don't stop. There's still a lot of me to fix."

Dean stroked gently over Sam's chest, but leaned down to kiss him. "Our hunt, Sam." he said before pulling back and slowly tending to all of his brother's wounds.

Sam sighed and let his eyelids droop under Dean's loving caresses. He stroked Dean's thighs absently with his hands. "We'll figure it out together."

That was exactly what Dean wanted and needed to hear. He and Sam were in it, together, to see the case done. "Maybe we should try and see if there're more books or something in the church tomorrow."

Sam nodded, shooting Dean a grin. "Good thinking. The church should have records of the bridge's building, since they're the ones it was built for essentially. There might also be some information about whether or not it's consecrated." He hissed as Dean worked a thorn out of his shoulder. "Want to split up? One of us handles the weapons and the other the church?"

"Yeah, which do you want?" Dean knew Sam was probably better with the whole church research thing, though he was kinda interested in checking that part out himself. The last thing he needed, though, was to push into the hunt with his own wants instead of them playing to their strengths. And Dean had to admit, in crunch time, Sam was better at research.

Sam glanced at Dean and then reached up to pull him into a kiss. "What do you want, Dean? What are your instincts telling you?"

"My instincts? Don't know, but I want to hit the church." Dean sighed, kissed Sam back and then leaned their foreheads together. "But I know you're better at in-depth, on-the-spot research than I am."

Sam stroked Dean's sides and smiled at him. "You're good at research, Dean. You generally just don't like to focus on it. If you want to check out the church, then you do that. I'll take care of the weapons."

Dean sighed, feeling Sam's belief in him as a balm to his worries. "You certain, Sam?"

Sam took Dean's hands and squeezed them lightly. "Yeah, Dean, I'm certain. As long as you're sure you want to trust me with the weaponry. You've always been better at that, too."

"You know what you're doing, Sam. You can just as easily make us some weapons that'll work." Dean squeezed Sam's hand back and then tugged him in for a hard kiss.

Sam grinned into the kiss and then wrapped a hand around the back of Dean's neck, massaging the muscles. He put on his neediest, softest expression and asked in a hopeful tone, "You gonna take care of me tonight, Dean?"

Dean sighed and nodded. "Yeah, Sam... wanna take care of you. What do you need or want?" He stroked Sam's body gently, mindful of the cuts and abrasions from his fall.

"Was that a good sigh?" Sam asked, nuzzling Dean's neck. He licked a stripe over the soft skin and over his fluttering pulse. "Cause it's hard to tell with you sometimes."

"Yeah, Sammy, it was a good sigh. I love taking care of your needs." Dean smiled and tipped his head to the side so Sam could nuzzle him. "I've always taken care of you."

"I know," Sam said with a little sigh at the now beloved nickname. "I want to be wrapped up in you tonight, Dean. Just rubbing against each other."

Dean grinned. "I can do that, Sam." He pulled Sam up from the toilet, leaving their stuff strewn all over the bathroom while he tugged Sam to the bed. Turning them both around, he nudged Sam until he was sitting on the bed and then knelt between his thighs. "Gonna suck you first."

Sam spread his legs accommodatingly and stroked Dean's hair gently. "Please, Dean. Please suck me. I need to feel your mouth around me, driving me crazy, making me hot all over."

"Always," Dean breathed, curling his hand at the base of Sam's cock. He flicked his tongue over the head and then sucked Sam into his mouth and down his throat.

"Nnngh," Sam said, as his cock twitched and began to fill and harden. "Oh." He stroked Dean's neck and face, panting heavily. The sight of Dean, mouth and lips stretched obscenely, always made his blood race.

The feel of Sam hardening on his tongue made Dean moan in pleasure. He loved to make Sam want him, to be the reason his brother got hard. With a gentle suck, Dean pulled off and flicked his tongue at the slit and then took only the tip in his mouth to suckle on slow and steady.

Sam loved the exchanges of power between lovers during a blowjob. In one sense, he could easily harm or overwhelm Dean with thrusts or sudden moves. But Dean also controlled him, his pleasure and the most sensitive part of his body. He thumbed over Dean's expanded cheeks and pushed a little.

Dean moaned, the pressure of his brother's thumb moving his cock inside Dean's mouth. He sucked more of Sam in, slowly starting up a rhythm of bobbing his head up and down, over and over.

In those (few) times Sam had watched porn, he had always found watching people suck cock completely unsexy. But the sight of Dean sucking, even divorced from the physical pleasure, made Sam hard and leaking. And adding on the physical pleasure and the knowledge that Dean loved him... well, Sam wondered that he didn't blow his load the moment Dean touched him.

Sucking Sam's cock was Dean's second favorite thing in their sex life... the first being when Sam fucked him unconscious. So, when Dean sucked Sam, he did it with as much enthusiasm as he'd ever shown for anything, moaning around it, flicking his tongue up and down, all around and then pushing himself to take Sam as deep into his throat as possible.

Sam watched Dean with huge eyes, moaning and writhing under the intense pleasures.

Dean swallowed around Sam, holding tight to Sam's hips so his brother could not pull away while he teased and tormented him. Finally, Dean slid his mouth up. "What do you want, Sam?" he asked, eyes half closed and tongue flicking over his lips.

Sam considered carefully for a long moment and then smiled, reaching out for Dean. "I want you riding me slow and easy."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, slowly making his way up Sam's chest with nips and licks. "I think I can do that... let's get you moved further up the bed," he said, before kissing Sam deeply.

Sam held on to Dean's head, before scooting up the bed and pulling Dean into his lap. "So hot, Dean. Always make me want you so much."

Dean smiled, still deeply pleased that Sam loved and wanted him as much as he loved and wanted Sam. "Always want you, Sam." He continued to kiss Sam deeply, moving until he was straddled over Sam's thighs, but not lining himself up yet.

Sam took their cocks in a big hand and rubbed them together. He added his second hand and stroked them in time, mixing the liquid and groaning. "Fuck, Dean. Fuck."

"So good, Sam," Dean groaned, rocking his hips in time with Sam's strokes. "Love the way you touch me."

"Always feel so honored to touch you like this," Sam said, nibbling at Dean's mouth. "That you settled for me. Coulda done so much better."

"Don't say shit like that, Sam. You're the one who deserves more than this life, better than me." Dean kissed his brother hard, letting him know just how much Dean appreciated that Sam loved him.

"Nah," Sam said and held Dean tighter. "We deserve each other. Fuck, but I love you, Dean." He bit Dean's shoulder and sucked in time with his strokes.

Dean whimpered from the bite, head falling back and hips rocking faster and harder into Sam's grip. "Need you, Sam, want you inside me." With a force of will, Dean stopped his hip movement and then lifted himself over Sam, reaching for Sam's cock and holding it steady so he could slide himself down onto it.

Sam groaned when Dean lifted himself up, but then held himself steady as Dean lowered down slowly. He bit his lip to prevent himself from making too pathetic a noise at how good it fell to enter Dean's tight heat. "Fuck, Dean, you're not... we didn't prep you."

"Don't need it, Sam." Dean groaned, the burn and stretching of taking Sam dry exactly what he needed. He grabbed onto Sam's shoulder and continued with the downward press of his body. 

"Fuck, Dean, you'll hurt yourself," Sam said, scrabbling at his sides and shoulders and wishing he had the strength to push him off. He thumbed over one of Dean's nipples accidentally and then paused to give the warm, pink nub attention. 

Dean shuddered when Sam started to play with his nipples. He rocked his hips down slightly, lifting up again and then pressing down one more time, as his body loosened up enough to take Sam deeper. 

Sam loved Dean's nipples, which were smallish and had perfect little bumps in off center. He fitted his mouth over one, ran his tongue all around the areola and then flicked rapidly over the bud. He then closed his mouth completely and suckled, kneading at Dean's hips. 

"Oh god, Sam, that's so good. Fuck, so good." Dean rocked himself inch by inch until he was finally resting his ass flush to Sam's hips. "Gonna ride you so hard." 

"Not hard," Sam said, pulling away from the nipple and smiling at Dean. "Slow and easy. Gonna make your body work for this." He squeezed Dean's hips. "Want lots of time to savor you bouncing up and down on my cock." 

Dean moaned, knowing that Sam meant what he said and that even though Dean had powerful thighs, Sam could and would control him easily. "Oh fuck, Sammy. You're gonna kill me, making me go slow." But Dean obeyed Sam's wishes and lifted himself slow and steady until Sam almost slid out and then pushed down equally slow and steady. 

"You really don't want to go slow, Dean?" Sam asked, tilting his head and looking concerned. He moaned as Dean slid back onto him and pressed up into his ass. "We can go fast," he panted. 

"No, Sam, it's okay. Slow's okay." Dean knew that eventually they'd get to hard and fast, but that Sam almost always preferred to start slower.  

Sam ran his hands up Dean's thighs and then over his ass, over his hips and back down again. "Can't get enough of you." 

Dean smiled, part shy and part knowing. He was well aware of his effect on Sam and of Sam's effect on him. Dean was even known to exploit it, but when Sam voiced a preference, Dean did everything he could to give it to him. 

Sam lifted a hand to Dean's smile and traced his lips, before urging him back up and down. He thrust a little to meet Dean's movements. "Some high-class porn right here." 

"You think?" Dean asked, always a bit embarrassed when Sam compared him to porn. He knew that he spouted off as though he was the hottest thing ever, but Dean was still amazed that Sam thought he was attractive. 

Sam snorted and traced Dean's chest with one finger. "Before I loved you so damn much... I was pretty jealous. You got all the good looking genes, Dean. Every last one." 

Dean snorted. "Not hardly, Sammy. Have you ever really looked at yourself? You're gorgeous." He leaned down and kissed Sam, still stunned even though Sam had said it all before.

Sam ran his hands over Dean reverently, devoutly worshipping at the altar of his faith. "Not like you, Dean. Somebody was putting together all the good stuff when they made you."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Sam. You have no idea how perfectly put together you are." Dean arched into Sam's touch, reaching up to tug him into a deep kiss.

Sam pressed his mouth to Dean's, their tongues flicking and twining, and moaned quietly. He guided his thrusts with both hands, moving him shallow and slow. Reaching around, he stroked around the place where he disappeared inside Dean.

Dean moaned, tilting his hips slightly so that he was leaning closer to Sam's mouth and kisses and angling so that Sam had better access to play with his ass. "God, love when you do this to me. Make me feel so fucking amazing, Sam."

"You were made to be loved," Sam said softly, knowing his words pleased, but embarrassed, Dean. He stroked through his hair and kissed him again, hips pressing him in and out of Dean's tight heat. "Sensual and so fucking hot."

Burying his face in Sam's throat, Dean mouthed, nipped and licked at his brother's throat. "Only want you, Sam. Am glad that you want me so much." Dean lifted and lowered his body on Sam's cock at the slowest pace he could manage, body craving faster, harder, more.

Sam knew the pace was hard on Dean, even as he relished every moment. So, he began to speed up, encouraging Dean with his hands and moving his hips in time. "You're my Dean. In every way now, like it should be."

"Like we both wanted." Dean smiled and nibbled at Sam's throat. He had never been more surprised when they'd both discovered that they'd wanted each other for a long time.

"Yes," Sam agreed and stroked Dean's back and ass, before rubbing, as his own cock slid back and forth across his fingers. "You like this, Dean?"

Dean nodded, lifting his head to nip at Sam's lower lip. "Love it," he groaned, moving into the increased pace that Sam set for them.

Sam fingered Dean's hole and tugged it a little looser, enough to work a second finger in. He moved it in and out in counterpoint to his cock, which meant Dean always had some part of Sam inside him. "Want more?"

"Yes," Dean gasped, responding to Sam. He sucked a mark into Sam's throat, hips continuing their rhythm, though Dean wasn't sure how long he'd be able to maintain.

"Want to move faster?" Sam asked, taking Dean's cock in hand and stroking in time with his bobbing.

Dean chuckled. "Always, Sam. Love the way you feel when you fuck in and out me, no matter how you do it."

Sam smacked Dean's ass with his free hand and then moved both hands to drop them on the bed. "Move how you like," he invited, eyes warm and hungry.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, grinning at Sam and then leaning in for a kiss before he settled back on his heels and started a faster rhythm of fucking himself. It still wasn't as fast as he wanted, but Dean knew that if he worked up to it, he should be able to coax Sam into the same frenzy of desire.

Sam threw himself into Dean's new rhythm and let the desire carry him away. He rubbed over Dean's sides with his fingers, just letting his hands move up and down as Dean did. "Fuck, yeah, so pretty, Dean."

Dean lifted himself up, hovered with Sam's cock just barely inside his body before he dropped down again. Raising and lowering himself, Dean pushed them both harder and faster toward their orgasms.

"Oh fuck, yeah," Sam crooned and grabbed his hips again. "Gonna come soon, Dean? Come for me, baby."

"Yeah, god yeah. Touch me, Sammy, please," Dean begged, even while he rode his brother's cock faster and harder than before.

"Touch you," Sam said and then rubbed a thumb teasingly over the head of Dean's cock. "Like that?"

Dean lost his rhythm for a moment, hips stuttering and body reacting almost violently to Sam's touch. "Oh, fuck yeah, Sammy," he cried, regaining his rhythm and riding Sam fast and hard.

Sam closed his hand around Dean and stroked. He wanted to see him come, wanted it all over him. "Show me, baby."

"Sam!" Dean cried out, slamming down hard onto Sam's cock and spurting over Sam's hand and belly while he shuddered and came at Sam's request.

Sam hissed and exploded inside Dean, unable to help himself. He keened loudly as he filled Dean with his orgasm. Shivering hard, he held tight to Dean's hips.

Dean slumped forward onto his brother's chest, breath huffing out of him while he felt Sam shiver through his release. Turning his head, Dean pressed a gentle kiss to Sam's chest and then sighed softly.

Sam lay flat under Dean and rubbed his fingers through his hair. "So good, Dean. I love you." He lifted him up and helped him settle more comfortably across his chest.

Snuggling in where Sam settled them, Dean sighed and closed his eyes. He could easily fall into a post-orgasm coma, completely slumped over Sam. "Love you," Dean whispered.

"Sleep, Dean. I'll get you up in a little while to take a shower," Sam said. He stroked Dean's neck and cupped the back of his head.

"Yeah?" Dean breathed over Sam's chest, snuggling in and sighing out all tension.

"Yeah," Sam said. "We can wash each other's backs and fronts. Slowly."

Dean hummed, burrowed in closer and huffed a soft sigh. He was more than half way asleep already, with complete and utter trust in Sam to take care of him.  
~~~~~~~

Dean watched the spirit of the Headless Horseman disappear into the low mist hanging over the grass. He howled while he faded out, cursing them both. Sam's research had led to a few interesting tricks that had been working for them all night and the lack of anyone from town stumbling into the area had Dean biting back a hope that they just might win this one. "Sam... what time is it? How long do we have until dawn?"

Sam glanced at the sky and then snuck a quick look at his cell. "Not long," he said, trying to keep from sounding too hopeful. "He seems to be getting a little desperate. I think he'll come at us hard despite the wards pretty soon." He pressed his back to Dean's, guns at the ready.

"Yeah, but we've held him off this long." Dean yawned, the fatigue of long nights and research during the days working again his desire to push through and beat the spirit. "It's been four days, and we've lost four people, Sam. If we can hold him off tonight, we have a better than average chance of holding him off again if we need to."

Sam pressed harder against Dean, showing his support. "I know, Dean. And these new weapons are giving us a definite edge. Still, don’t count your chickens before they hatch. Shall we split up and patrol up and down again; just to be sure the area is still clear?"

Dean hated to have Sam leave his side, but he nodded. It would be a hell of a lot better if they could be certain no one was out at this early hour. "Yeah, you want to take over by the tree and the bridge? I'll head up toward the cemetery and circle around to end up by you."

"Yeah," Sam said and began to trot away, heading up the road to the familiar tree. He moved fast, legs still a bit achy from the previous night, but a low, dull ache he could ignore. There was no mist this time, and he could feel the morning breeze begin to pick up over the marsh.

Jogging in the opposite direction of Sam, Dean made his way to the cemetery, the area where the teen lost his head still wrapped in police tape. The sight made Dean's blood boil and after a cursory check around, he turned and headed down the lane on the other side of the grave stones. Too many people liked to come that way at night, and he wasn't leaving anything to chance.

Sam's head jerked up as he heard the sound of the hooves, coming from the opposite direction, toward the covered bridge. "Dean," he yelled into the walkie talkie. "The bridge!" He turned and raced down the road.

"Shit," Dean exclaimed, not close enough to the bridge to know he'd make it easily. He pushed himself, running down the lane, still not wanting to chance that someone might be on their way to the area even while he raced toward Sam. "Give me something else, Sam. What's going on?" he yelled into his walkie, finally cresting a hill that would lead him toward the bridge.

"I hear him, near the bridge," Sam said and squinted into the lightening night, trying to see what was going on. "I think- he's by the bridge... fuck, is that someone on the bridge?!"

"No, Sam... God, please no!" Dean ducked his head down and ran full out toward the bridge. They were so close; this was likely the spirit's last attempt of the night, and Dean couldn't let him get someone now. "Stay on the bridge!" he screamed out when he was close enough, even though he could barely see the shapes ahead of him.

"Go back!" Sam yelled, echoing his brother's cry. He could see the forms more clearly now and noticed the one on the bridge seemed to wobble back and forth a bit. "Oh shit," he said. "A drunk."

Dean looked up at Sam's curse, moaning out loud and screaming at the guy to stop moving, to stay where he was. It was all to no avail and Dean screamed as loud as he could when he saw the drunk step one foot onto the grass. "Get back on the bridge! Don't go any further." Dean raised his shotgun and aimed it at the hazy figure of the Headless Horseman that was slowly gaining shape in the mist.

Sam fired off a round, which fell just short, and watched helplessly as the man staggered off the bridge. The Horseman howled in triumph, mixed with the explosive sound of Sam’s next shot, and swung his sword. Rock salt and sword collided with their targets at the same time, and the Horseman blinked out of sight, even as the headless corpse staggered another few steps and collapsed. Sam crashed to a halt and then found a bush in time to puke.

Watching the entire scene play out while he ran, Dean stumbled to a halt when the body of the drunk fell down. He collapsed onto his knees and screamed his rage into the early dawn light. Dean felt the man's death, and his own failure, deeply. They'd been so close to seeing what the different end to the long night would bring and what new developments they'd have been able to make. He didn't even notice the tears streaming over his cheeks.

Sam wiped the back of his mouth and headed for Dean, purpose in his stride. He knelt beside him and threw his arms around him tightly. "Not your fault," he said. "I think- I think maybe he pulls people here somehow..."  
   
"Sam," Dean sighed his brother's name and slumped into his arms. He had no words for what had just happened, for the personal defeat that he felt and for the pain of not saving that man.

"We have to leave, man," Sam said, hauling himself to his feet and dragging Dean with him. "Can't be found out here." He glanced once at the corpse, the shabby clothes and pooled blood, before wincing and turning resolutely toward the Impala. "He's got to have some power over this whole area, Dean. I mean... the police investigate the cases, but never close the road or the bridge?" He just talked, trying to soothe Dean and sort out his own swirling thoughts.

Dean nodded, letting Sam guide him back to the car. He knew Sam was likely right, but couldn't think of it just then. "Need some sleep, Sam, and then need to do more research. We gotta stop him."

"Yeah," Sam said, low and soothing. He pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead as they walked. "The new weapons worked well, at least. We can totally hold him off."

"That was some great stuff on your part, Sam. I'm glad that you were handling it." Dean leaned more heavily on Sam, walking on his own, but needing his brother's support for the moment.

"Dean," Sam said softly, "you found a whole heap of stuff from the church to go through. I’m sure we'll find some interesting information in there." He stopped at the car. "Do you want to drive?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, sure. Let's get back to the room." He pulled the keys out of his pocket, unlocked the trunk so they could stow their gear and then climbed in behind the wheel. Letting out a deep sigh, Dean turned over the engine and looked at Sam. "We have to beat this bastard, Sam. He can't survive to do this again."

Sam leaned forward and kissed Dean's unhappy frown. "I know, Dean. I know." He stroked his cheek, patted his chest and then leaned back again.

Another nod and Dean moved them out onto the road, driving them back to the hotel with his mind occupied by thoughts of the horseman and what they could possibly find that they haven't found by that point. He sighed and tried not to let defeat swamp him. They had another five nights.  
~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dean sat at the table in their hotel room. They'd lost a sixth victim fairly early in the night before- a kid in the cemetery, who'd managed to hide from them on their sweep through the area. He rifled through the pages of a journal he'd found. "Why am I reading this again, Sam? Do we really think this woman would have had anything that wasn't in any of the official sources we've gone through?" 

Sam lifted his head at the sound of Dean's annoyance, knowing it masked his upset at having lost another victim to the Horseman. "We don't want to leave anything to chance, Dean," he said, rifling through the church's historical papers, which Dean had neatly 'borrowed.'  

"Yeah." Dean acknowledged, knowing that Sam got that he didn't really want to leave anything to chance. He flipped a couple of more pages and came to a passage that commented on the bridge.  
"Hey, who was it that built the bridge again? His first name, I mean." 

"Josiah," Sam said without hesitation, even as he scanned some old church receipts. He frowned and looked up at Dean. "Why?" 

"This woman just started mentioning her husband, Josiah and the bridge." He flipped back a couple of pages to the beginning of the entry and started over from the beginning of the section. "Looks like her husband talked to her about the process of the bridge construction." 

"Sweet. Maybe she'll give us a clue as to why the Horseman can't cross." Sam went back to his own papers. He shoved aside the food lists from the 1800s. "Jesus, they really kept everything." 

Dean sighed and went back to reading. "What've you got over there?" He skimmed a couple of lines about her friends visiting, the food she was planning to prepare and finally came to another section on her husband and his bridge project. 

"Nada. The priest seemed to eat a lot of cheese... if that's of any interest to you." Sam looked up and smirked at Dean. 

Laughing and shaking his head, Dean went back to his reading. Another set of journal entries skimmed gave him nothing and then he hit upon something. "Hey Sam, the townspeople beheaded the Horseman, right?" 

"Yeah. But there's nothing written about what they did with the head." Sam frowned and set aside another sheath of useless papers. "He was a Hessian mercenary, and it was the Revolutionary War... but apparently, he didn't stick to killing soldiers. One can only imagine what the angry townspeople did with the head." 

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, I think I found out. Sammy, this woman wrote about it in her journal, and no one ever found it." 

Sam lunged across the bed toward Dean. "Are you fucking kidding me?" 

"Nope." Dean turned the journal toward him with a grin and then pulled it back. "This is what she wrote. 'Josiah returned home this evening with two gentlemen from town. The Hessian had apparently been about, causing problems in the tavern and our men finally decided it was time to rectify the issue. Josiah swore me to secrecy, but I feel compelled to write about it. The miller has ground his head together and Josiah, along with his apprentice, is going to mix it into the sealant on the bridge, so it shall never be found.” 

"They ground up the head?" Sam asked, expression a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "And she just wrote about it like it was some sort of natural occurrence?" He blinked and stared into space for a moment. "Well, that explains why he can't cross the bridge and why nobody can find his head." 

"Yeah, it does. I read somewhere a bit further back that the Hessian raped and killed her sister and her sister's unborn child. I have a feeling that's why she didn’t care too much about it." Dean sighed and sat back. "The only way to destroy the head is to destroy the entire bridge- a historical landmark." 

Sam tilted his head and raised his eyebrows at Dean. "And since when have you worried about that?" he asked, mouth lifting in a little smile. 

Dean laughed. "I always at least consider the importance of an historical landmark... it means we've gotta get out here a hell of a lot faster." 

"Well, yeah," Sam said with a little snort of laughter. "We need to pack the Impala and park her close by, so we can run off. And you need to use a lot of accelerant on the bridge to make sure it goes up. No good doing a halfway job." 

"Nope, and we'll have to put a call in to the fire department before we head out too far so that the whole area doesn't go up in flames." Dean smiled sheepishly at Sam. 

"Once that bridge goes up, the whole fire department will be rushing to get there anyway. Which is the other reason we have to make sure the bridge is going to burn down all the way... we can't really stick around to find out." Sam brushed hair out of his face. 

Dean cursed softly. They couldn't stay to be certain of the bridge burning, but had to be sure it completely went up in flames. "Yeah, we're going to have to douse the entire thing... we'll need to get some accelerants." 

"And we're going to have to wait 'til dark before we start spreading it around. One of us will have to douse the bridge, while the other patrols to try and prevent anybody else from dying." Sam frowned and tapped his knee. "He'll be pissed." 

"We may need to do it in shifts so that we both take a spin on there. He's going to be violently angry." Dean tapped his pen on the desk and tilted his head to look at Sam. 

"What, not going to claim the right to burn the bridge yourself, firebug?" Sam asked, grin teasing again. "I mean, this is the kind of fire that gets you so horny, you pull the Impala over as soon as it’s safe and try to fuck me on the hood." 

"I do plan on doing just that, Sam, but I don't want you stuck out there entirely on your own fighting him off." Dean laughed and tugged Sam in for a quick, hard kiss. 

Sam kissed back and laughed at the hopeful expression on Dean's face. "So, time to split up and buy some accelerants. I'll get the acetone, and you get the Coleman fuel. Cash payment for me, credit card for you." 

Dean nodded. "Sounds about right. If we do the fire just at dusk, we should be able to get it burning well before full night, and potentially before he'd have too much strength to fight back." 

"And when people have the best chance of seeing us and calling the cops," Sam said. "I think we need the cover of full night for this." 

Biting his lip, Dean debated, "Do you really think we have to wait until full dark?" The last thing he wanted was to get caught or have the blaze stopped too early, but them being out there with the spirit when it was as angry as it was going to be wasn't high on his to do list either. 

Sam rubbed Dean's side, nerves in his moves. "I don't know, Dean. If they catch us before we even get the bridge burned, everything is completely screwed. Fuck, we might even go down for the murders." 

Dean tugged Sam closer, leaning in to his touches and stroking his fingers absently over Sam's knee. "Shit, yeah... okay, under full dark and as fast as we can do it." 

"Which is why we can't trade off, Dean. You need to race up and down that bridge, throwing accelerant everywhere, and I need to deflect the Horseman's wrath." Sam pressed his forehead against Dean's. 

"Fuck," Dean breathed out. He knew Sam could handle himself, but the thought of his brother out there without Dean at his back left Dean's heart racing and gut clenching with nerves.  "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up," Sam said with a nod. "But a hunter's got to do what a hunter's got to do." 

"Yeah, we do." Dean turned to Sam, cupped his face and pulled him in for a kiss. "Just make sure you take care of yourself out there, okay?" 

Sam smiled and nodded at Dean. "I always do, Dean. If only for you." He kissed his nose. 

Dean smiled and lifted his head to kiss Sam's mouth. "Good, because I want you around for a long time." 

Sam deepened the kiss and then pulled back with a grin. "The Headless Horseman... that'd be a pretty nice notch in the Winchester belt." 

"Yeah, it will." Dean grinned and stroked Sam's back. "Once we're far away from here and on the way to the next thing."

Sam groaned internally at the idea of the next thing and kissed Dean again. "Yeah, first things first... accelerants. Let's go do what Winchesters do best."

Dean nodded. "Sounds good, Sam." He leaned in for another kiss and then pushed up and out of his seat. "You ready?"

"Just let me get the credit cards. Let's go to a hardware store for the acetone and a camping store for the camping fuel." Sam paused and took a deep breath. "For the first time, I really think we have a chance to beat the fucker."

"I hope so, Sam. He's been doing this every decade for hundreds of years, and I want to be sure we stop him." Dean grabbed his jacket and car keys before shoving his feet into his boots and lacing them up.

Sam watched Dean with concerned eyes, even as he pulled on his own boots. "Yeah, I know."

Dean felt bad. Sam was every bit aware of the spirit's past as he was, and he hadn't meant to throw that at Sam. His head was completely messed up on the case and much as he hated to admit it, it was likely a good thing that their dad hadn't let him try and take on this case back then. "I'll drop you at the store... you can get back here, right?"

Sam's eyes narrowed a little, but he nodded, figuring he could catch a taxi or something. "Just don't blow up the Impala, Dean."

"I won't; we just don't want people seeing us together once we have the supplies... too small a town with too much chance for gossip." The store Dean needed was a bit further out of town which meant he needed to drive out there.

"Ok," Sam said with a nod. "We'll meet here when you’re done and get something to eat. And then get ready."

Dean nodded, checking his wallet for the cash he needed and then heading out the door and to the Impala. He climbed in behind the wheel with a sigh and a quick prayer of hope that they were going to be able to get it done that night.  
~~~~~~~~~~

Sam froze in the middle of the road, having successfully chased a couple of horny teenagers out of the area, and stared at the looming form of the Horseman. He sat tell on the back of his black mount, turned toward Sam and held his wicked blade at rest by his side. "Uh, Dean," Sam said into his walkie talkie, "I think the Horseman is pissed now." And then he lifted his shotgun as the phantom horse bore down on him.

"I'm about ninety percent done dousing the bridge with the accelerant, Sam. Keep talking to me... what the hell's going on out there?" Dean asked into his walkie talkie while simultaneously using his free hand to soak the old wood of the bridge.

Sam pulled the trigger on the shotgun, blasting the Horseman with the consecrated rock salt, and the form flickered, but then solidified instantly. Sam hit the ground a second before he no longer had a head. "Oh fuck." He rolled out of the way of trampling hooves, even as the Horseman's mount reared and lashed out at him.

"Sam!" Dean screamed into his walkie, tossing the empty can of accelerant into a backpack and grabbing a full one out of the bag hanging from his arm. He opened and sped up the process of dousing the wood.

Sam sprawled flat as a hoof connected hard with his right shoulder. He rolled to avoid the next lash and stumbled to his knees, scrambling for purchase. A few half stumble, half crawling steps took him to the edge of the road and then he tumbled over the side. As he slid down on his back, he saw the Horseman pause at the top and then plunge over after him.

Dean emptied the final can of accelerant onto the bridge, tossed it in his bag and then took off down the length of the bridge again- headed away from Sam. When he hit the far side, he pulled out the kerosene soaked rags he'd prepped and with his lighter, started lighting up his homemade kindling, dropping them every three feet along the bridge while he headed back toward Sam and the spirit.

The Horseman screamed suddenly, and Sam saw the first hint of flame in the direction of the bridge. "That's right, motherfucker," Sam snarled, dragging himself to his feet at the bottom of the hillside, "you're about all out of time. No more heads for you." His breath stopped as he felt the gaze of the Horseman turn from the bridge to him. "Oh shit." He turned and ran into the forest, which abruptly and shockingly turned into the muck and ooze of marshland. Behind him, the horse gave a high cry and came after.

The bridge seemed longer than ever before while Dean made his way back toward Sam, finally tossing the last two soaked and lit torches onto the bridge. The first half of it was roaring well already, and Dean could only hope that it didn't catch attention too fast. "Sam!" he screamed into the walkie. "Where the fuck are you?"

The blast of noise on the walkie talkie didn't slow Sam down, but the dragging mud and water of the swamp did. He stumbled through rushes and lilies, trying to get away from the Horseman, who followed him in. He knew the specter was determined to take one last head. "I'm in the damn swamp, Dean," he said, pushing the button on the radio and yelling.

In the swamp? Dean changed directions slightly, pulling his shotgun off his back and running into the trees and mud just off the side of the road. Pulling up the walkie talkie, Dean called to Sam again, "Give me a little more, Sam. It's fucking dark in here."

Sam didn't dare risk a glance over his shoulder, as he heard the Horseman splashing through the mire and gaining on him. Ahead of him, he could see the fire growing, spreading out over the bridge. He pressed the button again, even as he tried to hurry up. "Just get out of here, Dean. Don't let the cops find you."

"Like Hell, Sam. Not going anywhere without you." Dean plunged further into the swamp, trying to see if he could spot where Sam and the Horseman were also running through the mud.

"Dean," Sam said, trying not to pant too obviously, "either that bridge is going to burn in time to destroy him before he gets me or he's going to get my head, but there's no way you're reaching me in time." He cried suddenly in pain, as the tip of the Horseman's blade scraped against the back of his neck.

Dean stopped running in that moment, knowing he wasn't going to make it to Sam this way. He turned toward the flames of the bridge, got himself to the edge of the swamp and braced his feet. "Bring him this way, Sam. Just come toward my voice, and I'll get the fucker."

Sam fell to the knees in the mire and dived to avoid a second strike. "Easier said then done," he muttered. He drew an iron knife carved with runes and slashed it through one of the horse's legs, satisfied when it screamed in pain and reared, giving him time to turn and head back for Dean.

Keeping his eyes trained on the darkness that was the swamp, Dean held the shotgun up, aimed, but loose enough that he could swing it from side to side, sweeping the blackness in front of him while he waited for Sam.

The Horseman whirled after him again, but Sam could almost feel his power waning, even as his anger increased. Hooves slipped through the deep muck, not propelling forward as powerfully and effortlessly as they had even a moment before. "You're losing, fucker," he thought, even as he saw Dean's form dimly in the darkness. "Dean!" he yelled and hauled ass toward him, but five steps forward, his left foot tangled in the roots of a fallen tree, and he plunged to his hands and knees in the freezing water.

The vision of Sam tumbling to the ground filled Dean's heart with fear, as he realized that the Horseman was right behind him. "Stay down, Sammy." Dean shot at the Horseman, round after round, as many as he could with the consecrated salt, while he advanced slowly through the mire. "C'mon, you motherfucker, leave! "

The Horseman screamed and wavered each time the salt blasted him, but did not vanish. He kept on coming, and Sam realized that Dean's advice might be the death of him. He pushed himself forward, trying to get to his feet, even as the wicked blade flashed in the moonlight, descending toward him. He felt the slash in the side of his neck, the parting of flesh, thought wildly, "Not in front of Dean!" and then flinched when the sensations suddenly ceased.

There were no last shrieks, no final heads... the Headless Horseman of the Hollow was gone.

And Sam was left on his hands and knees in the middle of the swamp, alone with Dean, blood dripping from his neck.

Dean had screamed when he saw the blade sure to sever Sam's neck, a litany of already forgotten prayers running through his mind, while he continued to pump the spirit full of salt. Nothing he did helped, until all of sudden the Horseman vanished. Dean fell to his knees, dropped the gun and then pushed himself frantically forward to stumble to Sam’s side.

Sam remained where he was in the muck, a hand to his bleeding neck. As Dean approached, he reached out to him with his free hand, mind buzzing about his narrow escape, but common sense still strong. "Need to get out of here, Dean."

"Don't really care just this second, Sammy." Dean dropped to his knees again and pulled his brother, his lover, his life, into his arms and held him tight. He knew that Sam was right, they had to get away from the burning bridge, but he couldn't care enough to let go of Sam just yet.

Sam wrapped his free arm around Dean and held him, shutting his eyes and pressing his face in Dean's hair. He let them stay for a moment and then said in his most pleading voice, "Please, Dean, we need to get out of here. My neck hurts."

Dean nodded, kissed Sam hard and then got to his feet. He helped Sam up, grabbed both of their guns and strapped them onto his back before he turned back to Sam. "You need my help?"

Sam shook his head, though he still kept one hand clapped to the wound on the side of his neck. The one at his nape ached, but bled sluggishly, so he wasn't worried about it. "Let's get the Hell out of here."  
~~~~~~~~~~

Dean pulled the Impala to the side of the road just after crossing the county line. He'd tried to pull over outside the town limits, but Sam stubbornly pushed Dean to continue on, though all he could think of was the fact that Sam had nearly lost his head. "Okay, Sammy, c'mon out on the side of the car. I want a good look at your neck."

Sam sighed and dragged his ass out of the car, even as he half-heartedly protested, "They're not bad wounds, Dean. The one on the back of my neck is just a graze, and the blade didn't get too deep on the side."

"Sammy, please, let me see them. I know you can judge wounds, but you can't really get a good look at these on your own." Dean rounded the front end of the Impala, hands held out imploringly.

Sam leaned over, arms bracing his torso on the hood and let his head fall forward. "Yeah, Dean, you can look at them," he said, knowing Dean needed to see them for himself, needed to know he was not badly injured.

Dean pushed Sam's hair up from his neck and gently touched near the cut on his nape. Sam was definitely right about that one not being bad. "Okay, Sam, tilt your head to the side."

Sam turned his head and let Dean examine him passively. "You were awesome, Dean, figuring out how to deal with the Headless Horseman."

"Almost lost you in the process," Dean said, hand tightening slightly at the base of Sam's neck. "Okay, the wounds look like they can wait a couple of hours until we stop for the night. The one on the side looks like it might need to be sewn up."

"Yeah, I think it does," Sam said. He paused to look at Dean, as he pushed himself upright. "All I could think of when he took that last swing at me was you. How I didn't want you to see that."

Dean shuddered out a breath. The whole thing had been way to close for his liking. He pulled Sam into his arms and held him tight. "Besting him would not have been worth losing you, Sammy. Nothing could ever be worth it."

Sam snorted a little into Dean's shoulder and punched him lightly in the back. "Better fucking not have been worth my life, jackass," he muttered.

"What I mean is... I can't do another one like this." Dean tightened his grip on Sam, shaking with the adrenaline release that often came after a big hunt, especially one where Sam got hurt. "All I could see was losing you."

Sam held Dean and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Hey. That could happen no matter what the hunt. And we did good, taking care of the Horseman. No recriminations, Dean." He settled his forehead against Dean's and sighed contentedly. "I'm still here."

Dean closed his eyes and felt a tremor run through him at how close he'd come to losing Sam. He tightened his arms and held Sam tight. "Can't lose you, Sammy."

Sam cradled Dean and stroked his hair softly. He wanted to promise that he'd never let Dean lose him, but so long as they were hunters, it was an impossible thing to say. "C'mon, De, let's keep driving. We can find a nice motel and stop for the night, so you can look after me and hold me close. Yeah?"

Nodding his head, Dean held Sam tight for another couple of moments and then pulled back with a gentle smile. "Yeah, wanna get you all cleaned up and stitched up and then just wrap myself around you for the rest of the night." He smiled and brushed an easy kiss over Sam's lips.

Sam kissed back just as softly and then urged Dean toward his side again. "Sounds perfect. And we'll be far away from this place and the fire, too. I don't want anything happening to us with the police, either."

"Yeah, we definitely need to get out of here before they come looking around anywhere else. How long you think you've got before you need to crash out?" Dean planned to push himself to the limit and get them far enough away from the fire so they could stop and settle for a few days.

"Well, for once, I have the old hunt high that you always get," Sam said with a rueful grin. “My adrenaline is somewhere over my eyeballs... and my body is pretty achy. So, I'm good for however far you've got in mind."

Dean nodded and then bundled Sam back into the car. "Yeah, okay, then we'll just go until one of us has to stop." He leaned in and kissed Sam again. "Just be sure to tell me if you need to stop before I do."

"If I keel over asleep in my seat, you can assume I need to stop for the night," Sam teased, looking at Dean with a fond smile.

"Sam," Dean drawled out with mild exasperation, "give me some heads up so I don't have to carry your ass to the room."

"Aw, you love waking me up and having to carry me into the room," Sam teased, dimples in full affect. He leaned back in the seat and gestured for Dean to get moving.

Dean put the car in gear and pulled them back out onto the road. "Just give me a heads up if you suddenly get tired."

"Yes, Sir," Sam said with a snapped salute. He stretched his legs and smiled out the window. "So, we calling Bobby tomorrow with the news?"

"Yeah, we should let him know that we took care of it. One more legend put to rest by the Winchesters." Dean smiled slightly, the pleasure of a job well done tempered greatly by nearly losing Sam forever.

Sam dropped a hand on Dean's leg and rubbed up and down. "Think dad knows?" he asked, ever so softly.

Dean smiled. "I hope so. I hope that wherever he is, he can see all of the good we've continued to do."

"He'd be proud of the things we've accomplished, Dean. There are a lot of people alive because of us." Sam let his hand stop on Dean's knee and squeeze.

"Yeah, though sometimes I wish that I didn't know of such things. Sometimes I wish for a beer and the mundane day-to-day that we had for some of our childhood." Dean smiled wryly, remembering how he'd railed against their dad not letting him hunt enough, until after he'd graduated high school.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, warm that Dean talked to him about these things, now. "I'd like to just sit down and talk to him, too. Without yelling." He rubbed over the side of Dean's knee.

Dean chuckled. "That'd be nice, Sam. To be able to sit with you both and not have to worry about one of you being angry at the other." He reached down and trailed his fingers over Sam's hand.

Sam tipped up his hand to squeeze Dean's fingers. "We'll have to have a drink in his name soon. Just sit and talk and not about hunts."

"Yeah, that'd be good. Maybe we can head down to the Gulf Coast, take a little bit of time off." Dean smiled across the darkness at Sam, their fingers tangling and playing together.

"You want some time off?" Sam asked, surprised and pleased. "Want me to look up some places to go?"

"Yes and yes. Find us a place to go be Sam and Dean Winchester, husbands, and nothing more." Dean's voice stumbled over the ‘h’ word, but he knew that Sam would understand what he wanted.

"New Orleans," Sam said without a pause. "There's a place I've heard of, called the Chez Nous Guest House, where we can stay... as husbands." He squeezed Dean's fingers. "And there's a lot to do there, stuff we both'll like." 

Dean grinned at Sam, pleased that he'd already gone looking for somewhere they could be free to act as they wanted. "I'm sure I'll like it. Dad took us through New Orleans once, but as you can imagine, it wasn't a fun stop."

Sam shifted in his seat to turn more toward Dean. "I don't remember you're telling me about that." He squeezed Dean's knee gently. "What were you hunting?"

"I think Dad had a lead on the yellow-eyed demon. We didn't stay all that long before he had us on the road again." Dean shrugged. "I got to spend all of an hour on Bourbon Street before he had me out in the swamps.

"We'll spend as long as you want, wherever you want," Sam said. He lifted his hand to his neck and sighed. "Shit, it's leaking again." He reached for a cloth from his bag.

Dean growled. "Maybe we should stop sooner rather than later, Sam. I know you feel fine, but he cut your neck pretty badly." He cast a look at Sam before putting his eyes back on the road.

Sam looked around and said, "It's not far to the state border. We can stop at the first nice motel after that." He held the cloth to his neck and pressed firmly, hoping the flow stopped soon.

"Yeah, okay." Dean knew it was wise to get them out of New York and Pennsylvania would be an easier place to stop without worrying. "Just, tell me if it gets worse instead of better."

"I will, Dean," Sam promised. "So, what are we doing first in New Orleans? The museums, right?" He grinned at his brother, dimples deep.

Dean laughed, full and loud. "If that's what you want, Sam. Though, I'm hoping that can wait until at least the second or third day." He reached over and stroked his hand high on Sam's leg. "I was kinda hoping we wouldn't leave the room for a couple of days."

Sam raised his eyebrows and then laughed himself, reaching out to twine his fingers with Dean's. "I think that can be arranged."


End file.
